


A Killer Punchline

by TheRealLadyLoki



Category: Suicide Squad (2016)
Genre: Bad Romance - Freeform, Break Up, Child Abuse, Domestic Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Making Up, Self-Harm, Single Parents, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-23 17:18:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7472751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRealLadyLoki/pseuds/TheRealLadyLoki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Early on in teaming with the Joker, Harley messes up big time and after facing the consequences, tries to end it all. When she comes to, she's not the same Harley the Joker remembers - she's empowered and ready and able to leave him. But is the Joker ready to give her up?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Started A Joke

**Author's Note:**

> The song I Started A Joke, which inspired this fic - and part of which is included in this chapter - is owned by the Bee Gees.

"I-I'm sorry, Puddin'." Harley stuttered, blue eyes fixed on the floor. The tattered remains of the Joker's favorite crocodile skin jacket were strewn across the floor in front of her, "I d-didn't... I... I..."

"Ya _what?_ Ya didn't _mean to_? Oh, that's rich." His foot connected with her ribs, causing her to flop onto her back. "And don't call me that!"

Large tears rolled down her red, blotchy cheeks. Blood and make-up were smeared across her face, a nasty bruise already forming over her right eye. "It was a machine gun, baby... your jacket's great an' all, but it's not kevlar..."

Clearly, that was the wrong thing to say. "And where was my little human shield, huh? I thought that ya would die for me."

"I-I would, baby! Any day!" Harley swore, looking up at her love imploringly.

"Then where the hell where ya when that mafia goon was trying to shoot me to ribbons? Last time I checked, running _away_ from the line of fire is mutiny!" The Joker hissed. "You're damn lucky the only thing with holes in it is my coat, girlie... Ya think this is bad? Ya don't know the half of it."

"I'm s-sorry, baby! I can fix the coat, I swear!" He raised his fist, readying to strike her again, until Harley cowered away from him, hiding her face in her hands.

The corner of the Joker's mouth twitched downward, the barest hint of a frown visible. "And what the hell do ya think you're doing, little girl?"

He grabbed her wrist, twisting it around until her arm was bent as far back as it would twist naturally. Harley, suddenly realizing her mistake, opened her mouth to apologize and beg for mercy - all that came out was a choked scream as the Joker forced her arm all the way back, yanking it out of it's socket. He held her up by her dislocated arm, smirking as she sobbed weakly, in too much pain to move and too afraid to try and fight back.

With his free hand, he picked up the remains of the coat and stuffed the charred, tattered cloth into Harley's mouth. Harley sobbed as her jaw popped, and he just kept feeding the cloth to her until she could feel it in her throat. She choked and sputtered, unable to swallow, drool tinged with blood trickling down her chin. He giggled as she sobbed, her futile attempts to breathe around the make-shift gag suddenly hysterical.

When she went limp in his arms, he released her with a sigh. He yanked the coat back out of her mouth, frowning when she spluttered, color returning to her cheeks as fresh air filled her lungs again. "Such a shame. You're still alive."

"I-I'm sorry..." She wheezed, curled in a ball at the Joker's feet. "I can... I can do b-better..."

"I expect that coat to be perfect by the time I come back." He said finally, suddenly tired of his plaything.

He stepped over her, before stalking out of the room and slamming the door closed behind him. When his footsteps faded into oblivion, Harley weakly pulled herself into an upright position, taking his coat in trembling hands and holding it to her heaving chest. She was crying, the tears streaking the remnants of her make-up. She hadn't been so scared since seeing the hail of bullets come down on her Clown Prince.

And yet, even in that moment, her first instinct had not been to protect him - it had been self-preservation. She'd taken cover behind an overturned vehicle like a scared little kid and let the Joker be utterly humiliated at the hands of some loon who'd thought it would be a good idea to try and reneg on a deal with the Joker. She knew without a doubt that he'd have the man's head on a pike for this, but that didn't ease the pain of her betrayal.

The tears fell faster when she looked at the tattered remains of his coat, amazed that her love had managed to walk away without even a scratch. Perhaps it had been wishful thinking when she'd promised that she could make the coat one-hundred percent again... The idea of betraying her love again sent another shiver of fear through her. Maybe it would have been better if she'd stepped in front of the rain of bullets. At least then, she would've proved herself useful for once.

With a grunt, she gingerly eased herself to her feet. Her entire body screamed in protest, but there was no time to waste. She retrieved the sewing kit, before sitting back down on the floor. There was a lot of work to be done before her Mistah J came calling...

* * *

It was nearing 1 AM, and the Joker had yet to call upon Harley. He knew that the jacket was beyond repair, and quite frankly wasn't in the mood to see how badly she'd loused up the job he'd given her. Sometimes, he wondered if she'd ever learn...

He was lounging on the couch in the warehouse, a glass of wine in hand. The late night news flickered across the television screen, detailing the most recent homicides to hit Gotham in all their juicy, gruesome detail. Usually, listening to the horror stories of bloodshed and violence that rocked his fair city was enough to cool the Joker's raging temper... But tonight, the newscaster seemed to take a particular interest in the Joker vs. the Mob showdown that had gone down earlier that day.

As if to add to his humilation, a passerby had caught the whole thing on camera and sold it to the news station to make a quick buck.

The corner of his mouth twitched and his hand tightened around the glass until it shattered in his hand, red wine pouring over his fingers and staining the lush purple carpet. He didn't even feel the glass piercing his skin, blood bubbling to the surface of his wounds. Perhaps the news station would recieve a very special delivery of Joker toxin the following day, as a sort of 'thank you' for being foolish enough to broadcast such a story.

Could this day get any better?

"Daddy?" A tiny voice implored. The Joker rolled his eyes - of course, he should've known better than to curse himself like that.

"Whatever it is, go bother your mother." He said, not even bothering to look down at the small four-year-old that had just approached the side of the couch. Even on her tip-toes, she was still too short to see over the arm of the couch.

The child was silent for a moment, and the Joker thought he'd been left to his own devices once more. His chest tightened and his anger flared when the child continued, "I can't find Mommy."

The Joker sighed, "Come now. Ya can't be _that_ much of an idiot. Your mother is where she always is - the bedroom."

"Mommy isn't in the bedroom, Daddy." The child continued.

He couldn't help but hear the worried note in her voice, and as she walked around to come stand beside the coffee table so that they were face-to-face, he saw the dried tears on her cheeks. Wonderful, so she'd probably had a nightmare. "Then she's probably in the bathroom. Mommies have to use the potty too, ya know."

"The bathroom door is locked."

 _That_ made the Joker pause. Harley hadn't locked the door to the bathroom since having Melody. The little girl used to fuss whenever her mother was out of sight for even a moment, so she'd taken to leaving the door open. The Joker had said she was being too soft on her, that the only way she'd learn was if someone had the guts to tell her that she wouldn't always have her way. That was perhaps the only argument they'd had that he hadn't actually won.

Which begged the question - why was Harley in the bathroom with the door _locked_?

The Joker rose to his feet, news program suddenly forgotten. He started for the stairs, not even bothering to see whether or not his daughter was behind him. Once upstairs, he found the door to their bedroom wide open - the door to the en-suite bathroom shut tight. The radio was blaring, but even that did not disguise the sound of the water running. Steam poured out from underneath the door.

He tried the knob, only to find it locked, like the child had said. "Harley?" There was no answer. "This isn't a god damn joke, Harls! If I have to bust down this door, you're gonna be _real_ sorry."

He heard a pathetic whimper and rolled his eyes - so the kid had followed him up after all. Wonderful. When there was silence for several more minutes, he sighed, "You've got to the count of three, Harls! If you don't open this fucking door, your face will be mince meat!"

Nothing. He didn't even bother giving her the full three count. He kicked down the door, only to pause as the steam cleared and revealed his girl's motionless body in the tub. The Joker's favorite switchblade dangled from her hand, her other, bloodied arm floating limply in the water. Her head lolled to the side, the bruises from earlier now fully formed on her pale skin...

She'd taped a note onto the bathroom mirror, which he recognized to be the lyrics of the song...

_I started a joke, which started the whole world crying..._

_But I didn't see that the joke was on me, oh no._

_'Till I finally died, which started the whole world living..._

_Oh, if I'd only seen that the joke was on me._

"Harley? Harley, baby, come on... wake up..." He knelt by her side, lightly smacking her face to try and get her to return to consciousness. "Oh God, Harley, _what did you do_?" He lifted her out of the water, trying to feel for a pulse.

"M-Mommy?" The Joker turned back, looking at the sobbing child standing in the doorway. "Daddy, what's wrong with Mommy?"


	2. Ch. 1: Missing the Punchline

The Joker returned his attention to Harley, smacking her cheek harder in an attempt to stir her to consciousness. "Harley... _c'mon,_ Harley..."

"Is Mommy hurt, Daddy?" A soft, hesitant voice broke through the tense silence once again. The Joker frowned: the little brat was just like her mother, she just never knew when to shut up.

"Back _up_!" He snapped, realizing that the child was approaching him cautiously. Melody recoiled as if she'd been slapped, curling in on herself in the corner. Returning his attention to Harley, he purred, "C'mon, baby... you know that Daddy didn't mean those nasty things he said..."

"Mmm..." Harley moaned as her head lolled to the side, reluctant to be called back into the land of the living.

"That's it, baby. Open those pretty little eyes so ya can see what I'm gonna do to ya for pulling that little stunt, ya dumb blonde." He growled.

Harley tensed in his arms, swallowing hard. "I'm s-sorry, Mistah J."

"Sorry?" The Joker's smirk was deadly as he dropped her limp body back into the tub, her body making a sick _thump_ against the porcelain. "I'll show ya sorry, little girl. I'll make ya wish ya actually managaed to do something right and ended your miserable excuse for a life."

Melody mewled, flinching when the Joker drew his hand back and landed an open-handed slap on her mother's cheek. Harley's body lurched from the force of the blow, contorting awkwardly before slipping under the surface of the pinkish water. When she didn't resurface, the Joker grabbed her and yanked her back up, screaming at her to open her eyes and take her punishment like a good little girl. For the second time that night, Harley disobeyed him.

With a grunt, the Joker scooped her up out of the water and carried her into their bedroom, carelessly tossing her onto the bed. He looked back, acknowledging the little girl curled in the corner with a roll of his eyes, before storming over to the bed and roughly shaking Harley's motionless, pliant body. She was bleeding all over the rich, deep purple duvet. The Joker made a mental note to have her clean the mess when she finally came around.

"Melody." The little girl peered around the corner, afraid of getting her head bitten off again. "Princess, would you bring Daddy one of the towels from the bathroom?" Melody hesitated a moment, eyeing him suspiciously. The Joker scowled, "Don't make me ask again, little girl."

Suddenly, she was up on her feet and grabbing one of the many towels, hurrying to the Joker's side. "The towel you wanted, Daddy."

He took the towel from her and bound Harley's arm, using his belt as a make-shift tourniquet to try and staunch the flow of blood. He let the child watch for a few minutes, before he grew tired by her continued presence. "Leave. _Now._ "

"But Mommy is still hurt -," she didn't get to finish that thought, cut off by the Joker's massive hand colliding with the side of her face.

"Did you just talk back to me, you little brat?" Her tiny body hit the ground with an audible _thump_ , before she lay there, perfectly still and completely silent.

After several seconds, she struggled to her feet and raced out of the room as fast as her little legs would carry her. Something knotted in the Joker's chest, his mind reeling with the realization that feeling the fear radiating off of the child didn't make him feel powerful - it just made him feel small. Smacking her hadn't resolved the whirlwind of emotions within him, and that only made him angrier.

Grabbing the med kit from underneath the bed, he sterilized a needle and set to work stitching Harley's wounded arm. He didn't bother numbing the area first, angrily jabbing the needle into the skin, enjoying her moans of discomfort and using them to drown out that annoying little whimper that Melody had made when he smacked her, which repeated on a sick loop in the back of his head.

He cleaned the blood from her arm and placed a kiss on the rather sad-looking stitches, before pulling the blankets up over her body and tucking her in. She looked so peaceful, lying there, that he was almost able to forget how angry he'd been at her earlier. She still bore the wounds from his earlier fit - her shoulder was swollen and bruised, still positioned slightly out of the socket, her throat tender from the texture of the coat.

Reaching into the med kit, he pulled out a cold pack and set it on her chest, right over her aching ribs. After that, he snapped her shoulder back into place, making sure that it would heal properly. After all, playing with a broken doll wasn't any fun.

Just as he was about to leave, he found his jacket resting carefully on the back of Harley's vanity chair, looking _worse_ than it had when he'd originally left it with her - if that was even possible. "Figures, she couldn't even do that right."

She _would_ fix his jacket... right after she washed the blood stains out of the duvet.

* * *

He didn't want to do this.

Parenting was Harley's domain. He tried to have as little to do with his daughter as possible, despite the fact that the four-year-old practically worshipped the ground that he walked on and was desperate to find a way to make him happy. She loved him in a way that he could never hope to reciprocate, and it made him hate himself for wanting to hurt her. And hurting her... was never as gratifying as he'd imagined it would be.

He could hear her sobbing from the doorway - he could barely see her, curled up in a little ball in the middle of her canopy bed, wrapped up around her sound therapy pillow. The Joker could hear the sound of crashing waves and see the gentle pulse of light coming from the pillow, and felt that knot re-emerge when he realized she was probably seeking comfort for the pillow because of what happened. Like he noted earlier, parenting was Harley's domain.

"Mel," he stifled the discomfort he felt, "What have we talked about? Crying is for babies, and you're no baby."

"'M sorry, Daddy." She sat up, rubbing her eyes with her tiny fists. She clutched the pillow so tightly her knuckles turned white, her face scrunching up in an effort to avoid crying again. "Mel is a big girl. Mel won't cry no more."

The Joker rolled his eyes, "Big girls don't refer to themselves in the third person, either."

She sniffled, fighting a losing battle with the tears. She was dealing with an emotional overload and being yelled at certainly wasn't helping anything. "Daddy?"

The Joker came over and sat down at the foot of her bed, yanking the pillow from her arms and tossing it on the ground. The light inside spluttered and died. "Listen, kiddo. Your mom? She's hurt. Bad. So I'm gonna need ya to do me a favor and leave her alone for awhile."

Reaching out, he took the child's chin in hand and tilted her head back so that he could look at the damage he'd done to her cheek. She sniffled and put on a brave face, barely even flinching when the Joker traced the bruise with one of his cold, ornate golden rings. The Joker stared at her for a moment... she had her mother's eyes. Empathetic, understanding... hurt.

"Do you hate me, Daddy?" She asked, flinching when the hand stopped on a particularly sensitive part of the bruise.

Well, that was a loaded question if he ever heard one. "Nah, I don't hate ya." God, why did he come in here again? Could Harley's suicide attempt have thrown him off so much that he was trying to _empathize_ with a _four-year-old?_

Mel swallowed hard, "I love you."

Even at four-years-old, it couldn't have escaped her notice that she had never heard those three words from her father. And even saying it now, he could see in her eyes that she knew this time would be no different. Instead of responding, he reached out and lightly tugged on one of her pigtails. It was an immature move and just a tad painful, but when he did it again... and then a third time... she suddenly broke into a huge grin and started giggling.

She closed her tiny hands around his bigger one, smiling brightly, "Daddy silly."

The Joker matched her smile with one of his own, "Hey, I've an idea." Melody's blue eyes widened and she listened intently as the Joker continued, "How'd ya like to help Daddy catch a bat?"

With Harley temporarily out of commission, all of his plans would be blown to hell. Even with their little setback, she was still his most trusted hench person, and the only one he deemed worth of handling a plot of this magnitude. But Melody... the wheels in his head were turning, a new plot forming, this one perhaps better than the last. Melody had an appeal that even his darling Harley didn't - a helpless, innocent child. It was perfect.

The Joker knew from experience that his kid was obedient to a fault, and she loved him almost as much as she feared him. She'd do whatever he asked, if she thought that it would make him happy. It wasn't a healthy kind of love, but what about their relationship could truthfully be described as 'healthy'? His girlfriend... she just tried to... tried to... Well, he wouldn't think about that. The point was, about seventy-five percent of the time, their dynamic worked.

Mel nodded hurriedly. Mommy never let her have any fun with Daddy - she said that Daddy's kind of 'fun' was too dangerous for little girls. And normally, the Joker didn't have any time for her anyway. She was more than willing to do anything he wanted, if it meant spending time with him. "Whatcha wanna do, Daddy?"

"Here's the plan, kiddo..."

* * *

"Mistah..?" Very real tears coursed down the little girl's cheeks, her body practically shaking with fear. "Mistah? I can't find my Daddy."

The man - a rugged, blond-haired, blue-eyed security guard - bent down to her level and ruffled her hair a little. "Well, that's not good, is it? Don't you worry, princess. I'll help you find your Daddy." He handed her a tissue, "Now... where did you last see your Daddy?"

She bawled up the tissue in her hand, looking around and trying to remember where she'd last seen him. When she couldn't remember, it only seemed to make her more upset. "I don't... I don't know! I want my Daddy!"

"Shh... shh, it's okay princess." He looked frazzled, clearly not knowing how to handle a terrified child. "Hey, can you tell me your name?"

She sniffled, "Mel-Melody Quinzel."

Quinzel... Quinzel... Something about that name sounded oddly familiar, but for the life of him he couldn't place it. And those eyes... They were swollen and red-rimmed with tears, but they too were familiar. It was like looking at sleet, they were a kind of metallic blue that was hard as steel and cold as dry ice. They were unnerving to look at - it almost felt as if he was falling into a bottomless pit, sinking further and further down into nothingness.

He took her hand, muttering about how he was going to take her to the security office, where she would be safe while they waited for her Daddy. He couldn't manage to procure any more information from her, so he'd make a generic announcement over the loudspeaker once they arrived at the office. Melody kept looking around, like she thought her father might pop out like a Jack-in-the-Box and save the day.

As soon as they entered the office, the security guard motioned for her to take a seat while he made the announcement. His back was turned to Melody, so he missed the way that her tears suddenly dried and her smile grew wide as the Joker slowly emerged from the shadows and cut the lights. "What the -,"

The back-up generator kicked on, casting an eerie purplish glow throughout the small office. "Mel, princess, what do ya call a babboon with an all-access security pass, a taser, and a badge?"

"I dunno, Daddy." She beamed at him, unsure of where he was going with the joke and not wanting to ruin the punchline.

The Joker grinned darkly, "Live bait," before pulling a needle out of his pocket and jamming it into the officer's neck. He hit the ground with a _thump_ , and once he was sure he was out, the Joker began undressing him.

"What's the plan now, Daddy?" She asked, just barely catching the unconscious security guard's keys when the Joker tossed them to her.

"Now?" He put the guard's hat on his head, before slipping into the uniform. "Now, we're gonna have some fun, baby girl."

* * *

When Harley awoke, it was to pain. Her entire body throbbed with white hot _pain_ , so terrible that she wished she hadn't woken up at all. It seemed to radiate from her destroyed arm, starting in the shoulder and reaching its apex where she'd cut herself open. Her skin was stuck to the sheets where her blood had dried, and she looked at the mess with a hint of fear and disgust. Her Mistah J was probably furious with her...

Slowly, she forced herself to sit up, groaning as her shoulder popped. She bit down on her bottom lip hard enough to taste blood, trying to stifle her scream as the shoulder went out of the socket again. Mistah J had really done a number on her, it would seem. Not that she didn't deserve it after what she'd done. But maybe... maybe she _didn't_ deserve it. Maybe... Maybe he'd taken things too far this time.

She looked down at her arm, remembering how low she'd felt when she'd taken the Joker's favorite switchblade to her wrist. _He_ was the reason she'd tried to kill herself, and he didn't care at all. It was like finding her in that tub had been a giant inconvinience for him. Or worse... it was like he didn't even care. The idea that her love didn't care whether she lived or died made her chest ache, her eyes blurring with tears.

"If Mistah J wanted me gone so bad, why didn't he just let me die?" She mumbled, large, fat tears finally falling down her cheeks.

Forcing herself out of bed, she started toward the door, shuffling into the hallway. Her free arm was wrapped around her aching ribs, suddenly scarcely able to bear the pain now that she was standing upright. Turning to head down the hall, she stopped outside of Melody's bedroom. It was late, almost 3 AM, so Melody was most likely asleep. Watching the little girl sleep always helped her to relax...

She didn't expect to open the door and find the room abandoned. Her heart stopped when she found the bed completely abandoned, her child missing. "Rocco!"

The goon took the stairs two at a time, huffing desperately in an attempt to catch his breath as he skidded to a halt beside her. "What's the problem, Miss Harley?"

"Where is my daughter?" Harley snapped. She wasn't in the mood to play games anymore. She was in unimaginable pain, her lover didn't care about her, and now her daughter was missing - could this day get any better?

"Didn't he tell ya? The boss took her on a heist with him." Rocco answered, his tone matter-of-fact. He looked confused when all of the color drained out of Harley's face, her already pain-wracked body tensing.

"He _what_?"


End file.
